


today the tempest rolls high (and clouds overshadow the sky)

by amosanguis



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Genre: Aftercare, M/M, POV Alternating, Pain Kink, SuperBat, actually came out a little bit like self-destruction oops, short scenes, title from a country song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 15:16:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6615544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amosanguis/pseuds/amosanguis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Clark’s tired of being the last one standing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	today the tempest rolls high (and clouds overshadow the sky)

**Author's Note:**

> \--Title from “Drifting Too Far From The Shore” by Hank Williams  
> \--Fill from [this DCEU kinkmeme post](https://dceu-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1491.html?thread=7891#cmt7891)

-z-

 

Bruce knows as soon as he looks into Clark's eyes what he's come to the cave for tonight.

“It’s okay,” Bruce says.

 

-x-

 

Sometimes Clark’s tired of being the last one standing.

Sometimes Clark just needs someone to make him fall to his knees, make him scream and cry and beg.

Sometimes Clark just needs to _bleed_. 

 

-x-

 

Bruce takes Clark’s hand, leads him deep into the cave – to the room he designed and built for nights like these.

“It’s okay,” he says to Clark again, kissing him softly (the last soft thing that will happen to Clark for _hours_ ) as he flicks on the red solar lights.

 

-x-

 

Clark’s ready to shake out of his skin, but as his powers start to eb away – as Bruce’s hits get harder and harder and his own blood flows from his split lip and torn eye – the shaking stops.

Clark tries to hit back, but like this, so human, so weak, Bruce dodges him easily, always dancing just out of reach.

 

-x-

 

Bruce straddles Clark, a god reduced to a man trying to breathe around shattered ribs and a punctured lung.

Almost.

Clark was almost there.

Bruce pulls his fist back.

 

-

 

When it’s finished, when Clark’s been sufficiently unmade for the night – Bruce carries him to the adjoining room.  The red solar lights are still on, but they’re dimmed here and they’ll get dimmer as the night goes on.

The whole point was for this to take time.

For Clark to heal slowly.

In the red light, Bruce tends to the wounds – wipes away the blood carefully, methodically stitches the gashes closed and wraps broken ribs.

Then he stands and checks the timers on the lights, makes sure the increments matched what Clark needed (some nights he needed longer increments, others he needed shorter) then he goes back over to Clark, puts Clark’s head in his lap, and waits for him to wake up.

 

-x-

 

Clark wakes with a gasp and a flinch, and immediately he feels Bruce leaning over him, his hands gently touching Clark’s face.

“It’s okay,” he says.  “I’ve got you.  You’re safe.”

They’re the same words he says every time – and every time, they’re just as soothing, just as reassuring.  Clark closes his eyes as Bruce kisses his forehead, whispers loving nonsense, and finally feels settled.

 

-z-

 

End.


End file.
